


The List

by maej26



Category: Monday Night RAW - Fandom, Professional Wrestling, Sports Entertainment, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment, wrestling - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, Satire, fantasy segment on Raw, light implications of m/m slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maej26/pseuds/maej26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A satire inspired by "The 50 Most Beautiful People in Sports-Entertainment History" posted on the WWE website (2012).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The List

**Author's Note:**

> (This fic has been backdated to when I originally wrote it)
> 
> This story makes me laugh so much! I hope you like it and can appreciate the humor :D
> 
> Also, I found Matt Striker and Randy Orton to have a lot of sexual tension back when Striker was in WWE and I was really happy I got to include that (if only just a little) in one of my fics.

The first two segments of Monday Night Raw consist of Matt Striker counting down the top 50 most beautiful superstars and divas throughout WWE's history. He's honored to have made the list but offended he only came in at forty-seven, although that's two spots higher than the current reigning WWE Champion, so maybe those resulting bragging rights will suffice.

Finally, the commentator breaks into the top five. A larger than life picture of The Rock appears on the titantron and the audience, mainly the females, go wild. If The Rock is at number five and Striker has already revealed superstars such as The Miz at number twenty-one and divas like Maryse at number sixteen then surely the top four must be deserving of their positions.

"Number four!" Matt announces enthusiastically waiting for the next picture to pop up and when it does the crowd erupts again, this time a mixture of men and women. "Eve!"

Matt starts to get giddy. There's only one superstar he's been clamoring to see and he can hardly wait for his suspicions of the first place finish to be confirmed.

"Number three…Trish Stratus!" Excellent choices, Matt thinks and the crowd couldn't agree more - particularly the men whistling and hollering for the former Women's Champion.

Matt's tempted to just skip second place altogether and go straight to number one but his professionalism wins out. Plus, he's not in control over the pace of the slideshow anyway.

"Now for the runner-up!" The next picture appears and there must be some mistake. "This can't be," Striker utters under his breath. He looks around as if he wants to protest. This is ridiculous. Randy Orton should be number one. There should be no question about it but it's out of his control. His feelings about the list are just the same as his unrequited feelings for the apex predator - completely irrelevant. He looks to the titantron and can't help but blush at the overly defined muscles dominating the screen, those eyes that seem to pierce his soul and the glow of the bronzed skin he so longs to touch. "The Viper, Randy Orton!" he declares. As far as he's concerned, this is the end of the list.

The excitement of the countdown has withered for Matt now that Orton is no longer a contender for the coveted top position. "And here's the winner," he says grudgingly. "Miss…" The audience mellows in their confusion. Matt looks around. "Miss Elizabeth," he says trying to rejuvenate the thousands in attendance and it works but not in a positive way. There's an outcry of discontent and Striker wonders why people couldn't have been this vocal about Randy's placement on the list.

Just then three men clad in black, looking much like militants, come out onto the stage. "This is an injustice that will not be tolerated!" The audience recognizes the men right away. It's The Shield, a band of vigilantes sworn to right the wrongs in the WWE.

"Gentlemen, this isn't necessary," Matt says trying to prevent any kind of altercation from occurring but secretly grateful for their intrusion. Hopefully, these guys will be able to correct the egregious error of Orton's second place finish.

"We don't want any trouble with you, Striker," Ambrose says as he enters the ring with his team. "First of all, who is responsible for compiling this list?"

"What?" the audience shouts in unison.

"Who decided the order of this list?"

"What?"

"We demand to know who chose-"

Suddenly an "Awesome" rips through the arena interrupting The Shield's inquisition. The Miz's theme song plays as he struts out to the stage.

"Twenty-one?" Miz asks. _"Really?"_

"Really!" echo the spectators.

_"Really?"_

"Really!"

Miz stomps his way down the ramp and enters the ring, steering clear of The Shield. "Someone put a _two_ in front of that _one_ and I will not leave this ring until I find out whose idea of a joke that was…Because I'm the Miz and I'm awe-"

"At least you made the list, Miz!"

Miz turns to address the man who has the gall to interrupt his tirade and much to his chagrin, it's his long time rival, Alex Riley. "Why am I not surprised? You rode my coat tails all the way to the main event of Wrestlemania and now you think you can ride them to the top of that list!"

Alex climbs into the ring and walks right up to The Miz. The crowd getting pumped as Riley confidently approaches his former mentor. He stands mere inches from Miz as he looks into his eyes.

"Why don't you say it to my face?" he dares, the tension escalating.

Just as it looks like the two are going to pummel each other, yet another voice enters the equation. This time, it's the voice of the voice of the voiceless.

"Three hundred and seventy nine. Do any of you know what the significance of that number is?" Paul Heyman looks out into the sea of unruly fans. "That is the precise number of days that CM Punk has been your uninterrupted champion. And here's another number for you. Forty-nine. Oh and forty-nine is a long cry from the level of respect your champion deserves. On his behalf, I demand that he receives the respect he has so rightly earned and that is the number one spot on that monstrosity of a list."

"Excuse me!" Vickie Guerrero shrieks and Paul Heyman thought he riled up the crowd but it's nothing compared to the thunderous roar Vickie's met with. "Excuse me!"

"It's okay, Vickie. I got this," Dolph Ziggler interjects making a beeline to the squared circle. "I am so sick of this!" he screams and the audience is against him solely for his affiliation with Vickie. "I steal the show every damn night and I'm going to steal the top spot on that list because no one in this company can do the things I can do."

"Allow me to beg your indulgence for just a moment," Damien Sandow requests, interrupting Ziggler as he walks out from behind the curtain. "This list is everything that is wrong with you misguided miscreants. As the intellectual savior of the ill informed masses, I am here to enlighten all of you about true beauty. It is not defined by the eye, but of the mind. This physical perfection of which you peasants so desperately seek is nothing compared to the rich wealth of knowledge you can attain and that is the irrefutable reason why I, your humble martyr, will be crowned the most beautiful person this company has ever seen! You're wel-"

"You're never going to be on that list, not with a goat face like that," Kane insults his tag team partner, Daniel Bryan. He tugs him by his scraggly beard as they make their entrance. The two remaining oblivious to the other bearded man who already occupies the stage.

"Oh yeah, well you better leave that mask on if you even want a shot at making that list!" Bryan jabs leading Kane down the ramp.

"As long as I'm the Tag Team Champions, I don't care about a ridiculous number!"

"Don't all you stupid people know that the best looking guys are always the rock stars?" Heath Slater implores with a thick southern accent. His question is greeted with a mixture of laughter (mostly of a mocking nature) and pure disdain.

"That is right," Drew McIntyre agrees, his Scottish accent is more tolerable but the audience is still repulsed by his attitude. "And why is it that we're celebrating old, decrepit has-beens on a list that should reflect the current state of this handsome company anyway?"

The members of the Three Man Band pile into the ring, joining the rest of the superstars who all start arguing with each other.

" _What about Randy?!_ " Matt Striker wails and everyone stops to look at him for a second before they continue bickering.

Flickering lights are accompanied by a chiming sound and everyone in the arena automatically settles.

"Can I have your attention, please?" Michael Cole says into the microphone as he's standing to his feet. "I have just received an email from the anonymous Raw General Manager." The boisterous crowd rumbles with detest for the commentator. Energized by the reaction, Cole walks over to the podium that holds a laptop. He opens it and leans into the mic.

"And I quote!" This stirs up the rambunctious audience further. "This is all good and fun but let's get serious. You have all made fair points so instead of ranking superstars from across the years, I have decided to give you all a chance to make the list. You will fight for your spot…" Cole pauses for dramatic effect. "In a fifty man over-the-top-rope battle royal!" Suddenly no one cares so much about the messenger, but of the message and the crowd roars with overwhelming approval.

The members of The Shield look to each other nodding, satisfied with their accomplishment.

Fifty active sports-entertainers squeeze into the ring. Most of the superstars don't want to risk hurting the divas but when the numbers dwindle down, they realize the top spot is more important than caring about what members of the WWE Universe think, so over the top rope the divas go and now there are only five superstars left in the ring.

The current WWE Champion, The Miz, Dolph Ziggler and Alex Riley all gang up on Randy Orton as they vie for the number one spot on the list. Matt Striker jumps up on the apron trying to distract the hostile group but it doesn't work and Orton drops down to fifth place on the list.

Striker runs to Orton and shoves a mic in the Viper's face. "A moment of your time, Randy?"

"A moment of my time?" seethes Randy and before Striker can speak, Orton strikes the sycophant with an RKO. The crowd cheers. "I was perfectly fine waiting backstage for my singles match," a grumpy Randy Orton mumbles as he makes his exit.

Next, Ziggler and Punk are eliminated leaving the top two spots open to The Miz and his former apprentice.

Alex stands opposite Miz, sizing up his opponent. They circle each other as the audience's anticipation grows.

"Say it to my face!" Alex taunts again and Miz charges at him, ramming his shoulder into Riley's gut nearly knocking the wind out of him. They each land a few of their best moves and Miz looks like he's losing steam. Alex takes advantage of the guy's weakened state and hoists him onto his shoulders rushing over to the ropes to toss him over but just then Miz gets a burst of energy, flies out of Alex's grip and pushes him over the top rope. There's a thud as Riley lands on the thick pad outside the ring.

Wasting no time, The Miz climbs up in the corner of the ring declaring himself the most beautiful person not only in the company, but in the world.

"I told you I would do it! Never doubt me. I'm beautiful _and_ awesome!" he declares.

Suddenly, there's a collective gasp that ruptures from the crowd and the ring starts to tremble. The Miz doesn't even have time to turn around and face his assailant before he's tumbling off the ropes and slamming into the ground below. Miz holds his head, his whole body aches and he looks over to Alex laying next to him, still in a considerable amount of pain of his own. Miz moans as he struggles to regain his focus and when he does, he's able to identify his attacker.

"Such arrogance," Damien Sandow says, mocking the Triple Crown winner as he towers over him in the ring above. He motions to Cole to bring him a microphone.

"As I'm sure you all have noticed, no one ever threw me over the top rope. Therefore, I was never eliminated. I have out-smarted you all!" reveals Sandow, claming his victory and the number one spot on the list.

"We will not stand for this injustice!" yells Ambrose as The Shield approach the ring.


End file.
